


Two pounds sugar-solution

by Lomeniel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baking, F/M, Jealousy, Pining, Sugar overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomeniel/pseuds/Lomeniel
Summary: When Sam acts as bait on a case, Y/N resorts to baking to keep her mind off things: there’s nothing that works better as a distraction than a little action in the kitchen.





	Two pounds sugar-solution

“So get this; it’s a man-eater.” Sam tapped the screen on his laptop and turned it around so that Y/N and Dean could see the drawing too. It was a woodcut of a woman with long, dark hair, pressing her hand to a limp man’s chest.

“A what?” Dean snickered, earning an annoyed glare from his brother.

“A man-eater,” Sam repeated, ignoring Dean’s continued giggling. “As far as I can tell, everything leads to this old myth from Croatia. They call it a… ljudožder, but I think that just means cannibal.

Anyway, if you take a look at the marks on the victims, it all fits. Says here the man-eater is a spirit that always takes the shape of a woman, and she feeds on her victims by sucking their life force through her fingertips, after putting them under some sort of trance.”

Y/N blew air through her nose and threw her head back. “Great! So we have a hungry ghostie with an appetite for Sam-sized snacks? Just peachy!”

“Huh?” Sam and Dean said in unison.

“Come on! Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed? They’re all tall and muscular, with long, brown hair and brownish green eyes.” Though none of them were as handsome, she added silently, feeling a tiny prick of guilt – don’t talk ill of the dead, Y/N.

Dean blinked and looked from Y/N to Sam – the cogs in his brain whirring loudly, but after a few seconds he broke into a wide grin. “Well, Sammy. There’s only one thing to do: dust off your old lipstick and high heels. Let’s hope your game isn’t too rusty.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Screw you, Dean. There’s nothing wrong with my game.”

Y/N’s eyes widened when she understood their plan. “What? No!” she blurted out before she could stop herself. 

“Why not?” Dean asked. “This is a golden opportunity. Sam’s just her type.”

He’s my type too, Y/N thought. Granted, she had never told him that, and she had no claim on him, but she felt queasy just from the thought of seeing him with someone else. Not to mention there was a real chance it would kill him. “It’s… uh, dangerous,” she spluttered, trying to come up with a better reason.

“Everything we do is dangerous,” Sam countered with a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine: got you two to watch my back, remember?”

“Right. What’s the plan?” Dean asked, ignoring Y/N’s protests and subsequent glare of death.

“Well,” Sam replied with a determined expression, scouring the papers in front of him. “According to the witness accounts, at least two of the victims left Gin&Burger accompanied by a ‘tall, dark-haired goddess’,” he squinted at the police report, quoting in the air. “So I’m thinking it’s time for an evening on the town.”

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, leaning back in her chair. “How do we kill it?”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” Sam said, grimacing as he swallowed. “It can’t be killed unless it’s feeding. You gotta slice her hand off with a knife made of…” He searched the page for the answer. “Of birch.”

“And where do we find such a weapon?” Y/N still wasn’t going to give up trying to talk him out of it, but before Sam could answer, Dean spoke up.

“There’s a birch tree on the other side of the parking lot. I’m pretty sure I could carve something resembling a knife pretty fast. I’ll get it done ‘til tomorrow.”

“Well, there you have it,” Sam said with a satisfied nod. “Now if you excuse me, I’m gonna go read through the police reports again. See if there’s anything we’ve missed,” he added and headed for his room with his arms full of papers and envelopes.

Shortly after, Dean left too. He was going to sneak over to the tree and fetch a suitable piece of wood.

With both of the Winchesters gone for the moment, Y/N was left with her own thoughts. After a few minutes of stewing in the beginnings of a jealous fit she definitely didn’t want to acknowledge, she got to her feet and shuffled to her bedroom to try and get some sleep or distraction or anything to get her thoughts away from Sam with another woman.

The bed wasn’t as comfortable as it had been the first night. The mattress felt lumpy and hard, and the blanket was both too cold and way too hot, and Y/N tossed and turned in the darkness. She tried listening to music, but every song on her playlist was connected to some moment she’d shared with Sam. No matter how she tried to shut her brain off, it kept jumping back to the increasingly disturbing image of Sam and some random woman in positions of varying degrees of intimacy.

This was a problem that claimed a two-pounds-sugar solution, and Y/N thanked the Winchesters for agreeing to rent an apartment for the case instead of the usual motel rooms. If they had been stuck in a dingy room with just a kitchenette and a minifridge – and maybe not even that – she would have gone crazy. Luckily nothing distracted her like baking did, and if it was something she needed right now it was one hell of a distraction.

 

The warm, sweet smell of chocolate and vanilla wafted through the kitchen. One juicy cake was on the way, and Y/N had already begun the laborious process of kneading the marshmallow fondant. It wasn’t difficult to make, but the fondant had to be worked through properly to roll thin enough to cover the cake, and once she was satisfied it was done, she covered it with a sheet of plastic and moved on to the filling.

Scuttling around the unfamiliar kitchen, and gathering the tools she needed, she muttered to herself, trying to keep track of her mother’s icing recipe.

“Butter, vanilla, chocolate. And… Dammit! Where did I put you?” she asked, rummaging through the bags on the kitchen table. “Don’t say I forgot… Aha! There you are!” The box of powdered sugar hid at the very bottom, under the huge bag of marshmallows, and she pulled it out, giving it a tired victory smile.

Making her way around the kitchen, searching through the cupboards and drawers for what she needed, this time a proper whisk, she was totally unaware of the shadow that emerged in the doorway. 

The kitchen was so much larger than she was used to, and well stocked – one of the few perks on this hunt – but she would give it up in an instant if only…

“What’cha doin’?”

The voice took her by surprise, and she dropped the bag in her hands, sending a cloud of flour up in the air. “Jesus, Dean! You should know better than to sneak up on me. Especially when I have unlimited access to knives,” she added, nodding towards the cleaver she’d grabbed by instinct.

“Sorry.” He lifted his hands in the air, pushing off the doorframe with his hip. “But I stand by my question. What are you doing? It’s…” He looked at his watch. “Two thirty. You should be sleeping.”

Yeah, she should. But she couldn’t, so she gave him a non-committal shrug and pushed her hair out of her face before resuming her activities.

“You okay?”

Looking over her shoulder, she arched an eyebrow at her best friend. “I’m fine.” Three and a half ounces of butter, seventeen ounces of sugar. What else was in that recipe? Oh yeah: coffee. Y/N reached for the pot, but Dean snatched it from under her nose. 

“Dean! What are y –“

“Listen,” he interrupted, filling the pot with water, measuring up enough for the coffee maker. “You are the most sleep-loving person I know. Hell, I’ve seen you fall asleep standing up. So you’re clearly not fine. Talk to me!”

Watching as he took a seat by the table, she pressed the power button and continued to measure the ingredients she needed. Dean’s eyes never left her. Silence filled the room as she worked, and she said nothing until the last drop of filling had been spread over the still hot cake.

Dean cleared his throat, reminding her that he wouldn’t leave until she had told him what was bothering her.

“Okay,” she finally said, licking the spoon and leaning against the counter. “No: I’m not fine. I’m anything but. But I’ll pull through. I always do.”

Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he leaned forward in his chair. “Will you tell me?”

Y/N ran her hands through her hair and groaned. “God help you if you repeat this to anyone. I…” She put the spoon in her mouth again; still not ready to tell anyone about the secret she had been carrying for three years. 

Dean got to his feet and padded over to her; his bare feet slapping against the tiles. When he got close enough, he put his hands on her arms and squeezed. “You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

Sighing, Y/N nodded. “I know. It’s just… this is awkward.” She shifted and sighed again, looking down at her toes.

“…Sweetheart,” Dean began, speaking calmly and slowly. “Don’t you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Then why – ?” He looked at the way her shoulders slumped forward, and an icky feeling settled in his stomach. What could possibly make her this unhappy? She was baking for crying out loud. She only did that when she was sad.

“Because there’s no not-awkward way of admitting that I’m in love with your brother. And it’s making me sick to my stomach just thinking about seeing him with someone else.” Fidgeting with the pocket on her apron, she let out a huff and looked up into Dean’s worried face. 

“Oh.” He let out a short laugh, resulting in a hard slap on his chest.

“I’m serious, Dean. It breaks me every time I have to see him with someone else, and tomorrow I won’t have the luxury of looking away.”

Dean closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose – he hadn’t thought about that. “Crap.”

“Yup.”

“You know it’s just for the hunt, right?” Y/N nodded, but the hurt still lingered in her eyes. “You should’ve… I could’ve… this is… crap.”

“Yeah.”

He pulled her into a tight hug and kissed the top of her head. “It’s too late to change the plans now,” he murmured, holding her close. She didn’t know if it was to keep her from running away or because he really thought she needed it. Either way, she appreciated the gesture. This way she didn’t have to pretend anymore.

“I know,” she replied into his t-shirt. “And I’ll get through it. As I said: I always do.”

“If I had known,” Dean began, but she cut him off.

“’s not your fault. Besides, Sam’s more her type anyway.”

“Yeah, but…” He didn’t like seeing her hurt.

“Don’t but me, Dean. I’m a grown woman. Sometimes we have to endure things we don’t want to. I can handle it. That’s why I’m standing in the middle of this godforsaken kitchen trying to bake a goddamn marshmallow covered, chocolate filled chocolate cake in the middle of the night”. 

Dean wiped a drop of chocolate icing off her forehead with his thumb and stuck it in his mouth. “You gotta tell him, kid.”

“Nuh-uh!” Y/N answered even before Dean managed to finish his sentence. “Not gonna happen.”

He gave her a classic bitch face in a silent challenge. 

“Can’t have him trying to be considerate of my feelings and fuck up the case,” she said after some thought. “Because he’d downplay just to be nice, and then she’d get away. The hunt is more important than my stupid feelings. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because I can’t keep my green-eyed monster in check.”

 

“Stay back,” Sam warned before they went in. “But not too far,” he added after a moment’s thought, shooting an apologetic smile to Y/N.

“We’ll be right here, Sammy,” Dean replied surprisingly tender. “We got your back.”

The Gin&Burger was a medium sized place that served – as the name suggested – both alcohol and food. According to Dean, the burger was sublime, but Y/N didn’t have the stomach to eat at all, and she scowled at him for not concentrating on the hunt.

“Gotta look the part,” he grinned with his cheeks filled like a hamster, but he kept an eye on Sam and every woman in the vicinity. “Uh-oh. Here we go. That’s gotta be her, right?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper, but his words cut their way into Y/N’s mind like a red-hot blade. 

The scene playing on the other side of the room was nauseating. Sam was – she didn’t really want to know what he was doing – it was enough to see him sitting with a gorgeous lady on his lap, even if it was a creature and it was for a case. 

“Relax,” Dean muttered, stroking Y/N’s back. “No need to strangle your beer. It’ll be over soon.” 

Y/N nodded and clenched her jaws, but let go of the bottle, which clinked against the table. Sam played his part perfectly – she had never seen him look so smitten. She shuddered. Here was Sam, laying his life on the line to make sure the man-eater couldn’t kill any more innocent guys, and Y/N was jealous. He deserved so much better. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and forced herself to focus.

The minutes ticked by agonisingly slow; nothing happened, and they were forced to watch the show unfold. Y/N almost began to doubt the whole set-up when Dean nudged her ribs.

“It’s happening,” he whispered, following Sam and the woman with his eyes. She was leading his brother towards the back door. This was it. Once the door clanged shut, Dean got to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Y/N checked that the wooden blade was still securely strapped inside her sleeve before joining Dean as he strode through the room.

“How’re we gonna do this? I’m better at sneaking than you.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Screw you, Winchester. This kill is mine. And anyway, I got the knife, remember?”

“Wow, you really got it in for this lady, don’t you? Didn’t know you had a vindictive streak.”

“She’s about to EAT him, Dean. Of course I’m vindictive.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “And jealousy has nothing to do with it.”

“Shut it.” Y/N pushed past him and out into the street.

The alley behind the bar was dark except for the faint, orange light coming from the figures over by the trash bins. To an outsider, it looked like a couple that got a little bit too amorous and couldn’t wait until they got home, but the way Sam’s shoulders slouched forward and his head lolled to one side made it clear he wasn’t present at all.

Dean put a finger over his lips and pointed towards Sam and the man-eater, then gestured for Y/N to move behind them, while he went around the other side.   
Sam’s face was rapidly turning grey, and Y/N had to restrain herself from sprinting the short distance to rip the creature from his side. She took another step, and accidentally kicked a bottle, sending it flying across the street.

The bottle clinked as it came to rest by the trash bins, and Y/N froze, eyes wide from the noise. In the shadows, she spotted Dean turn slowly to glare at her, but apparently the man-eater didn’t even notice. She was too busy with her meal.

Satisfied she was still undetected, Y/N crept up next to them, and carefully drew the crude knife from her sleeve. With one swift stroke, she brought it down on the man-eater’s wrist.

The knife, though dull and simple, went straight through skin and bones and sinews like they were made of foam. The man-eater screeched, clawing at Sam, but it was no use. Within seconds, she evaporated, leaving only the severed hand attached to Sam’s chest.

The moment she disappeared, Sam woke from his slumber. He flicked the hand off himself, and it landed on the ground, where it writhed and shivered before it shrivelled up into a wrinkly, leathery brown lump. Sam retched from the sight.

“How you feelin’?” Dean had his arm around Sam’s shoulder, and was already leading him back to the car. 

“I’m fine,” Sam breathed, but he let his brother hold him up. “Just a little faint, that’s all.”

Y/N stood staring at the lump of flesh and bone, the knife still in hand. She stayed completely still until Dean put his hand on her back. 

“Sam’s safe,” he said, giving her a careful smile. “Let me just take care of that before we hit the road, huh?” He nodded to the hand on the ground. 

Y/N inhaled deeply and turned her back, feeling the heat from the flames through her jacket. She was done with the man-eater; she didn’t want to spend another second near the remains.

 

Sam was lying in the backseat, the rumbling from the Impala’s engine helping him relax. He still felt weak after almost being drained of life, but he was recovering quickly, and would probably be back to normal by the time they arrived back at the bunker. 

Y/N kept glancing at him, telling herself it was just to make sure he wasn’t too cold or uncomfortable, but she knew she was trying to fool herself. In reality, she drank in his sleeping form, so relaxed, so peaceful. He was breathing deeply, sighing and smacking his tongue occasionally. Y/N really couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“So you gonna tell him or what?” Dean asked when he caught her staring for the fourteenth time in ten minutes.

“Shh!” She shifted quickly in her seat, forcing her eyes back to the road ahead of them. “He’ll hear you!”

“Don’t worry. He’s out cold.” He cast a quick glance in the rear view mirror. Sam was sleeping, alright. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he was a 6’4 giant that somehow fit across the backseat, Dean could’ve sworn he looked just like little seven year old Sammy, back when he was still innocent and blissfully unaware of the horrors of the dark. Nothing knocked the kid out faster than the sweet roar from Dean’s precious baby, and soft rock on the radio.

Not in the mood for Dean’s playful teasing, Y/N closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the cold window. They had a long drive ahead of them – she might as well get some shut-eye. But she just couldn’t shake the image of Sam with that… creature, feeling a hot stone sear the inside of her belly every time she thought of it. And then she spiralled into anger towards herself: after all, it was just that; a creature. Sam had selflessly agreed to put himself at risk, and Y/N was still jealous? She felt like a horrible person.

Sitting up straight again, she leaned her head back for a moment. “Dean, pull into the next general store, will you? I need to stock up on ingredients.” Knowing herself, the image would be stuck in her head and the back of her throat for a long time – she needed distractions.

Dean turned right at the next intersection and found a parking spot near the entrance of a promising looking shop. “I’ll come with you. Might as well do a supply run while we’re here.”

Y/N looked at Sam sleeping soundly in the back. “Should we wake him?” 

“Nah. Let him sleep. Won’t take long anyway.”

 

“I still think you should, though,” Dean said when they returned to the car. “It’s not worth you getting so heartbroken again.”

“I’ll think about it,” Y/N replied and swallowed yet another surge of memories of Sam flirting with that man-eater before opening the door.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean,” Dean added. Of course he had noticed. “You can’t keep baking every time you see Sam with someone else. We don’t have enough space in the freezer.” He tried to keep it light, but he was serious enough. 

“I know.” She nodded and let out a small huff. “I just don’t know how.”

“Y/N?”

Y/N flinched. “Sam? I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, until you opened the door and let the cold air in.” He rolled his shoulders and arched his back. “Haven’t slept this good since… ages really.” He smiled so brightly the whole car lit up. “Nothing like almost being eaten by an ancient spirit to help you relax.”

Y/N smiled, but it was stiff and unnatural. No amount of baking would help against the rejection that would come any moment now.

Sam leaned forward and rested his elbows on the front seat. “I’m sorry your feelings got hurt, Y/N.”

“So you heard, huh?” She felt her insides twist, and closed her eyes; missing the look he gave her.

“I did.”

Y/N half turned to him, but kept her eyes closed to avoid both Winchesters’ scrutiny. “Listen, I –“

“Y/N,” Sam interrupted and put his hand on her shoulder. It was warm and soft, and the gentle touch turned her into a puddle of melted goo. “Look at me please.”  
She reluctantly did as he asked, but was met with nothing but kindness and compassion. “I am sorry you were hurt, but if it makes it any easier, I hated every second of it. Sure, she was pretty, if you remove the fact that she’s a monster, but… She wasn’t you,” he said, holding her gaze to make sure she knew he spoke the truth.

“Ooh…” Dean grinned, his head going back and forth between the two of them. He could never resist good drama.

“What?” Y/N’s lips formed the word, but she had no sound to go with it.

“It’s true,” Sam smiled, ignoring his brother’s stupid smirk. “I should’ve said something sooner, but…” He reached over the seat and stroked Y/N’s cheek.

“…it’s hard to find the words, right?” She finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “I don’t want to be the reason you bake anymore, Y/N.”

Turning her head slightly, she kissed the palm of his hand, the light touch tingling against her lips. She had no reply for him.

“…but you’ll still bake me a pie when we get home, right?” Dean winked and laughed at the groan from Sam and Y/N’s ridiculous grimace.


End file.
